


Smile

by SHIELD1



Category: Jessica Jones (TV), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Feminism, Gen, Lonliness, Meditation, Mind Control, Not a Will Simpson redemption, Some assumptions are made about the end of Civil War, What if Killgrave met Darcy before Jessica?, Women Being Awesome, dark AF, eventual hurt/comfort, fuck your patriarchy, librarianism, post Age of Ultron, so probably gonna be AU in a few months, some lost souls wander here, sort of post Civil War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-18
Updated: 2017-01-09
Packaged: 2018-05-14 20:39:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 16
Words: 11,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5758042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SHIELD1/pseuds/SHIELD1
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Smile." He ordered. Darcy snarled instead. </p><p>"Fuck off." She snapped back without looking up from her book. He stiffened beside her in surprise. </p><p>"I don't think you heard me," he had a smooth English drawl. "I said, smile."</p><p>"And I told you to fuck off. Fuck, off." Darcy kept her eyes locked on the book.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Darcy had been Tony's lab manager for a year when she reached her limit for workplaces blown up, burned down, taken over by jack-booted thugs, populated by pantsless scientists, demolished by alien elves, etc.

Something in her brain just snapped when she was forced to hide from a skeletal mass of homicidal live wires at the end of an office rager. As Clint shoved her under a table and scrambled away to arm himself Darcy made a decision.

"I quit." She announced in the ensuing stunned silence after Ultron departed. No one tried to stop her when she reached the elevator, but it wouldn't open. She pushed the buttons for a few minutes before giving up. Silently she backtracked to grab a flat chunk of debris.

She hit the door to the stairs, positioned her makeshift sled at the top of the stairs and started the long slide down to her 30th floor apartment. After a quick stop to pack a bag, she continued her descent through the powerless, eerily silent Avengers tower and walked out the wide open front doors.

 

* * *

 

 

After it was all over, some of the team visited to tell her that she had made the right decision. Tony put some seed money in her bank account, and put in a personal call to the mayor to get her her new dream job. Clint and Steve came by to help her move into her new digs in Bed-Stuy. There was a new… a new scar on everyone's faces that she saw. She didn't think she would have survived those wounds long enough to let them scar her. Clint folded her into a hug after Steve left and held held her there for a long time.

"You gotta know…" Clint said, trailing off a little. "You gotta know which door is the last one you can go through." He pulled Darcy up to press a kiss into her forehead. Keeping a grip on her shoulders he pushed her back and looked at every inch of her face, nodding at what he saw.

"You got out while you're still you. No fault in that, not even a little." He told her fiercely. "You're doing the right thing. You're the smartest one in our whole bunch."

"I'm, ah, I'm not in the bunch anymore." She observed. Clint grinned at her.

"Ah, we're around." He assured her. Darcy bit her lip.

"Thor isn't… He doesn't," she bit back her tears. "And Bruce."

Clint folded her back up and let her cry for a little while.

"Thor'll get there. And Banner's fine, he's like you, he just hit his last door. You've got the rest of us, but mostly you've got you. That's more than most of us can say."


	2. Chapter 2

_Six Months Later_

 

Darcy was… normal. It felt weird. It felt good. It felt like she had the room to stop and breath, like she'd been sprinting ever since Puente Antigua and she was just now able to start her cool down lap.

 

She missed the people in the Avenger's circles. She missed bantering with Tony, she missed Clint's protective presence. She didn't miss her naïve crush on Captain America, or Natasha's habit of springing surprise training on Darcy when she least expected it.

 

She missed Bruce like she would miss a limb. He'd taken up some of the space in her heart that a father would, if she'd ever had one, always teaching her. He taught her how to make a balanced meal, how to do yoga, how to do her taxes, and how to meditate. His disappearance cut her in ways that her bio Dad's absence never had.

 

She took a job with the Brooklyn Public Library, a sort of catch all position that kept her quietly hustling all day between the front desk, the stacks, and the office. She planned programs, she kept the peace when communities met to argue in their public rooms, she read to children, and the best of all, most nights she could walk away from work and stop thinking about it.

 

She ran an evening knitting circle out of the library that was an odd collection of the young and young at heart. A nearby senior center shuttled some residents over every Thursday evening. Young mothers brought their kids. Young white girl punks with vintage ripped jeans mingled with middle aged black grandmothers and baby boomer hippie dudes. In the back of her mind, Darcy dreamed of writing books about these people and their fascinating relationships and intersections.

 

For now though, right now, putting pen to paper was too much like taking work home. Darcy told herself that she didn't have the brain space for it yet. She could always do it later.

 

This Thursday though, she stumbled over her mantra of "later".

 

When her senior center crew showed up, they were one senior short. The whole group fell silent when they saw the senior center driver's wet eyes. Darcy felt her heart plunge when the driver opened her mouth.

 

"It's uh… It's Ida."

 

Darcy bit her lip, hard, and gathered herself before nodding. The driver silently handed her a tote bag before retreating. She was left reeling before a room that she was ostensibly in charge of when she opened the bag and found a beautiful half finished lavender lace shawl.

 

"We were hoping you could finish it." She was told. She hardly heard the words, nodding silently. They finished their circle an hour early, unable to keep up a cheerful façade mostly because Darcy was unable to keep up a cheerful façade. When everyone had cleared out, Darcy called Clint.

 

It sounded like he was at his farm. His kids were running around, a baby was cooing. She smiled for the first time in hours. She didn't pussyfoot about why she was calling, but they didn't dwell on it either. This wasn't another Avengers door, she could handle this just fine, with some supportive friends. She knew was so lucky she still had those. Her next call was to Jane. They'd get together later that night, get drunk and call in sick the next morning.

 

Darcy didn't really want to go sit around her empty apartment until Jane showed up, so she did some quick mental math and decided she couldn't afford to stop for sushi but she was going to do it anyway.

 

She got to Tomo Sushi during the tail end of the dinner rush and got seated at the bar, promptly burying her nose into the Welcome to Night Vale novel. To further discourage attempts at conversation she'd slipped the jacket to Pickety's Capital in the Twenty-First Century over the cover. Still, some guy slid into the seat beside her, ignoring the open seats he could have put between them. Darcy barely had time to feel her space infringed upon before he was talking.

 

"Smile." He ordered. Darcy snarled instead.

 

"Fuck off." She snapped back without looking up from her book. He stiffened beside her in surprise.

 

"I don't think you heard me," he had a smooth English drawl. "I said, smile."

 

"And I told you to fuck off. Fuck, off." Darcy kept her eyes locked on the book.

 

He sounded genuinely surprised when he started. " _How_ -"

 

Darcy slammed her book against the glass covering the fish, turning to look at him for the first time.

 

"I am not some piece of background scenery in the movie of your damn life." She hissed. "The way my face is arranged doesn't have a goddamn thing to do with you until you decide to comment on it. NOW FUCK. OFF."

 

His eyebrows shot almost all the way up to his hairline and he raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. Darcy took the chance to memorize his face like Natasha had taught her, in case he decided to be trouble later on. He had medium length black hair the was half slicked back, a five o'clock shadow, and he wore an unusual amount of purple. Should be easy to pick him out in a crowd.

 

She kept her stink eye on him until he retreated to a small table. Then she turned back to her book, tuning him out until she got a text from Jane that she was en route.

 

She walked back to her apartment with the itchy feeling between her shoulder blades that she was being watched, but she never saw even a flash of purple. She scratched it up to paranoia and a long day, and went to her apartment to get shit faced with her best friend and mourn a 90 year old woman with sharp eyes and a sharper wit that she'd only known for a few months.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've never justified my refusal to smile on command and you definitely never have to either. Maybe I'm not smiling because a good friend just died. Maybe I'm not smiling because it's actually pretty fucking weird to walk around grinning all the time. Whatever. Don't fucking tell women how to arrange their faces. It's none of your goddamn business.


	3. Chapter 3

" _Bitch whore_!"

 

" _Slut_!"

 

"You're both terrible people." Darcy observed dryly, leaning back to avoid the Little Golden Books cardboard picture book that had been chucked at her nose. Children all around the story time rug were either watching with rapt attention or pitching fits of their own.

 

"Sssslut!" A blue eyed, blonde three year old girl in a flouncy dress happily shrieked, clapping. Darcy cringed, before going back to shooing all the children back away from the yuppie brawl. "Noooo, noooo, that's not a word we're learning today sweetie."

 

"Slut!" Two more kids chimed in. Darcy turned back to the two grown ass women grappling dangerously close to the picture books shelves.

 

"How about 'Gender Constructs Needlessly Shame Women For Totally Normal Behavior'? Can you guys say that?"

 

The blonde three old stopped and thought about that for a moment before stripping off her underwear and pooping on the edge of the rug. Christ, if that's how she expressed her opinions now she would probably grow up to be a real powerhouse in the publishing industry.

 

At least she'd confused most of the toddlers enough to stop squealing the word slut.

 

Finally the cops got there, pulling the two Mom-zillas apart and handing Darcy their last copy of the Frozen sing along songbook. Darcy let it dangle between her fingers, and seriously considered burning it before her boss took it from her with a knowing look. Both women were pressing charges against each other and everyone around them, so Darcy slipped behind the front desk to wait out the cops as the library was temporarily closed.

 

Her fingers slid over Ida's shawl, finished the night before, before settling on her own two-toned scarf, pulling it out and getting to work on it.

 

She had about five minutes to knit in peace before the first dumb ass had to comment. This dumb ass was, distressingly, a cop. Middle aged, white, a bit of a paunch hanging over his belt. He leaned over the desk to watch her.

 

"You make that yourself?" He wheezed. Darcy only paused long enough to turn the scarf and start on the next row.

 

"Nope." She didn't explain further as the silence grew between them. A snigger started up behind them, and the dumb ass cop straightened up, starting to bluster.

 

"You could show some respect young lady-"

 

"Aw, shaddup Grizzinsky." A good natured chuckle followed the order, and Darcy turned to see a tall blond uniformed cop standing behind her at the swinging half door that led behind the desk.

 

He looked… A lot like Steve Rogers. Dangerously like Steve. He grinned at her.

 

She grinned back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have actually been asked if I made the thing the person was watching me knit. THIS PERSON WAS WATCHING ME KNIT.


	4. Chapter 4

Grizzinsky broke the spell by rapping on the desk.

 

"You the storyteller?" He asked. Darcy looked back at him.

 

"Yeah." She admitted reluctantly. She couldn't fuck with him if he was doing actual cop work.

 

"Wait here."

 

He left, and came back with a chubby, angry baby.

 

"Social Services can't get here yet." He hollered gleefully over the squalling baby. "You gotta watch him till then."

 

With that he passed the baby over the desk, setting him on top of the scarf she was working on, forcing her to drop her needles and catch him around the chest.

 

" _Hey_ -" she snapped, watching in horror as live stitches started to slip off her needles under the baby's diapered, squirmy ass. A pair of big hands reached over her shoulder to lift the baby off her knitting.

 

"You're really funny Grizzinsky. Hope you keep that sense of humor when you work the overnight tonight." The blond cop secured the baby to his chest, starting to a bouncing rhythm as he scowled at his coworker. Darcy busied herself saving her scarf as they went back and forth over her head.

 

"Aw, Sarge, you can't-"

 

"Make that all the overnights this week."

 

Grizzinsky shut up, and finally absented himself. Darcy put her scarf away - point protectors securely fastened on - and turned to the hunky cop. He tried to hand the baby to her but she snatched her hands back and leaned away.

 

"Naw man, you got this." She said. He laughed and resettled the baby.

 

"You look like I just tried to pass you a nuke." He observed.

 

"Nukes don't poop." She shot back. She looked down at the baby. "Don't poop." She warned him. She looked back up at the cop. "We already had a pooper today. Now we have to get a new story time rug."

 

"You guys have the funds to just get a new rug?" The cop asked, still amused. Both of them being municipal employees, he definitely knew that the library operated on a shoestring budget. Hell, he probably even knew that some of the doors only stayed closed if you duct taped them. Darcy scowled.

 

"Of course not. I'll think of something." His grin widened.

 

"Will Simpson." He introduced himself.

 

"Darcy Lewis."

 

"Let's get some hoagies after social services gets here."

 

"You move fast. I still have to finish my shift after you guys clear out."

 

"Even better. What time do you get off tonight?"

 

Darcy had her knitting circle that night. She was giving Ida's shawl to her friends. It would be buried with her.

 

Tonight was going to suck. 'Sarge' Will Simpson might make it suck a little less.

 

"Pick me up around the corner at 7:15."


	5. Chapter 5

Simpson showed up at 6:50 with a rolled up rug over his shoulder. He stopped outside the room they were knitting in, waved through the glass wall, dropped the rug to the ground and leaned against the far wall, settling in to wait. One the group's grandmas, Eula, stared with eyes wide.

 

"That man gotta body in that rug. That's some mob shit." She told Darcy. "You should call the cops."

 

Darcy grinned. "He is the cops. I think that's just a new story time rug."

 

Eula opened the door a crack. "You a cop?"

 

"Yes ma'am." Will stayed relaxed, with an easy smile.

 

Eula shut the door and turned to Darcy. "I don't usually go for cops but… _damn_." Darcy choked on a laugh.

 

Eula opened the door again. "What's in the rug?"

 

"Just a rug."

 

"You in the mafia?"

 

"No ma'am."

 

Eula shut the door again. The whole room laughed with Darcy then. Will glanced down to hide his smile.

 

"You gonna go out with him? Now?" Eula asked Darcy.

 

"That was the plan." Darcy said. Eula shook her head in disbelief.

 

"That's a terrible plan." Eula opened the door again. "You're here to walk this young lady back to her apartment safe and sound, aren't you?"

 

"Ah…" Will trailed off, looking at Darcy in confusion.

 

"Ain't no date starting this late at night that's befitting of a proper young lady like Miss Darcy Lewis, now is there son?"

 

"Ummm… No?" He guessed. Darcy was laughing silently, doubled over behind Eula.

 

"Come on son, lets you and me go lay out that rug for the babies. You sure there ain't no dead body in there?"

 

Will looked quizzically at the rug, and then at Eula. "…no?"

 

"You don't sound too sure."

 

Will stooped and scooped up the rug, bouncing it around a little. "No bodies in here."

 

He followed Eula down the hall with a bemused look on his face. Darcy cleared the room of giggling knitters, locking up and turning lights off behind her. Eula and Simpson met her at the door.

 

He started to reach for Darcy's hand, but Eula cleared her throat and crossed her arms.

 

"You gonna leave room for Jesus, aren't you?" She demanded sternly.

 

"Yes ma'am." Will agreed. "I was just getting her bag for her."

 

Darcy laughed out loud.

 

"It's chivalrous." He insisted, tugging her knitting tote from her fingers with a matching grin on his face.

 

"Mmmhmm." Eula uncrossed her arms and walked to the curb. "Ya'll have a safe walk back to Darcy's apartment now. I'll see you next week."

 

"Yes ma'am!" Simpson called as Eula ducked into a cab. When the cab was out of sight he offered his left arm.

 

"Where are we going?" Darcy asked as she took it, led him lead her down the block.

 

"Well I think your friend back there was pretty clear." He teased.

 

Darcy steered him for a few blocks.

 

"You live at a bar?" He asked, feigning shock. Darcy dropped his arm and turned to face him, tugging him through the door with a mischievous grin.

 

"We're taking a detour to my place. You're still walking me home."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eula is loosely based on my own sassy grandmas and a breast cancer survivor in my own stitch and bitch who knits boobs for women who've had mastectomies.


	6. Chapter 6

_Three Weeks Later_

 

"Go make waffles." Darcy said, poking Will in the side.

 

"Pushy." He grinned at her before leaning in for a kiss. Darcy pulled the covers over her head before he reached her.

 

"Waffles." She whined. The bed shook with his laughter.

 

"Oh, is that how it is?" He pressed his kiss to the covers over her face and rolled out of bed. Darcy sighed happily and settled the pillows more comfortably. Maybe she could sleep just a little while longer…

 

Her Sunday morning bliss was interrupted by a manly shriek from her kitchen. She tossed back her sheets and ran after Will, taser out. When she saw what the problem was, she retreated back into the room and came back wrapped in a sheet.

 

"What the _fuck_ Tony!"

 

"I haven't seen my favorite intern in a while!"

 

"I'm dating a cop, genius, what if he shot you? You can't just show up in my kitchen unannounced."

 

Tony flipped his faceplate up to take in Will. Will gaped back at him.

 

"Pretty clear he's not armed, Lewis, unless he's packing something in those boxer briefs."

 

"Oh, he is." Darcy shot back smugly.

 

" _Darcy_!" Will hissed at her.

 

Tony pressed his finger to the side of his helmet. "You gotta come see this Hawkeye. Is the Widow in town? Yeah, bring her too. Does the Vision eat breakfast? Doesn't matter, lets get him up here too."

 

Will made a noise like he was being strangled. Darcy sighed.

 

"You should go put on some pants Will. They're probably just lurking outside the door."

 

Will backed into her bedroom to get his pants on while Tony got up from her armchair and got out of the suit. He left it looming over the table in sentry mode. When she heard another shriek after he closed the door she tugged her sheet on tighter. Black Widow frog marched Will back out.

 

The poor bastard still wasn't wearing pants.

 

He was steered to a seat at Darcy's tiny table. "Sit."

 

"I'm good." Will said, starting to regain his composure. The Widow spun him to face her.

 

" _Sit_."

 

Will sat.

 

Darcy retreated to her room to try and gather some shreds of dignity.

 

"Are those Hawkeye panties?" Clint hollered from her bedroom window when she bent over. Since she was still under the sheet she was going to assume he'd just made a lucky guess. Once her own butt was covered she hunted around for Will's jeans.

 

They were not folded on her desk chair like she remembered. She turned her glare on Clint, but he just grinned back at her from behind his shades. He popped through her window and led the way through to her kitchen.

 

There was magically a full breakfast straining the weight capacity of her Craigslist found table, and all her closest friends plus a robot hero were staring at her uncomfortable boyfriend. Darcy nudged Will's legs a little open and took a seat on his left leg.

 

"Bet you're missing Eula right now." She murmured into his ear, gratified to feel the huff of his laugh against her neck. He reached down and hooked a hand behind her knee, tugging her all the way up onto his lap before securing her with a grip around her hips.

 

"So Army boy," Tony started.

 

"Not my name." Will observed.

 

Tony leaned forward, all humor gone from his face. "That's what we've been calling you while we put together the file on you. Doctor Kozlov, huh? Not much out there about him. Friday had to crack some tough firewalls just to get his name."

 

"If you cracked those firewalls then you know I got nothing to do with that anymore."

 

"You know damn well that no one really gets out of the game Army boy." Hawkeye commented.

 

"I did." Will said simply. Darcy hugged him tight around his shoulders.

 

"Thank you so much for your interest." Darcy broke in sarcastically. "But I like this one and I'll be really mad if you scare him off."

 

Natasha pinned her with a glare but Darcy shrugged it off.

 

"Come on. If you really found something on him we wouldn't be having the world's most awkward breakfast, you would have just put an arrow through him when I wasn't looking." Will blanched. She patted his back.

 

Natasha's face melted into something soft and sweet, like Darcy had just done something adorable. "Aww, Darcy. You know an arrow's too showy. No one would ever find his body."

 

"Jesus Christ." Will said, appalled.


	7. Chapter 7

Luckily (actually probably really unlucky for someone else) all four of their phones started blaring the call to assemble. Darcy hopped off Will's lap and went to a cupboard. When she pulled down some Tupperware for them and turned around she walked straight into Vision's chestal area.

 

"Apologies Miss Lewis." Was the only warning she got before he picked her up by her armpits and walked her through her front door. Tony closed it behind them with a bright smile and a wave.

 

"No!" She yelped. Vision set her on her feet, and she immediately banged on her door. "Don't listen to them Will!" She called through the door.

 

Alor Cardenas, the across the hall neighbor, opened his door and glared at Darcy before taking in Vision. He sighed.

 

"Damn. I just moved here. Damned superheroes. You gonna blow up this building too?"

 

"That was Wilson Fisk who blew everything up Mr. Cardenas. The Avengers are the alien invasion and robot guys." Darcy explained patiently.

 

"You gonna alien-invade robots into this apartment building then?"

 

Vision was unfazed. "We have no plans to do so."

 

"Well keep it that way!" Mr. Cardenas yelled. "I just signed the damn lease!" With that, he slammed his door shut.

 

The door unlocked behind Darcy and she rushed in. All the Avengers, including Vision, were gone. Will's chair was in the middle of the room and he was roped to it in intricate ties that covered almost his whole torso. There was a gag in his mouth and his eyes were bulging.

 

His jeans were nailed to her wall with an arrow through the crotch. Tony was _so_ going to be refunding her for the security deposit. She walked over to Will and tugged out the gag before stepping behind him to investigate the knots.

 

"Are you an Avenger?" Will asked breathlessly when she started picking at the knots.

 

"Dude." She deadpanned. "You saw me slip and fall on the one ice patch in the whole entire city yesterday. Does that seem likely?"

 

"Right." He said, shaking his head.

 

"There's not much call for librarian aide superheroes anyway."

 

"Right." He agreed a little too quickly. Darcy felt her ego pricked a bit but before she could retract her statement and protest Will was speaking again.

 

"Are you Tony Stark's secret illegitimate love child?"

 

"Pepper and B-, uh, the others, always wanted to run a DNA test." She'd almost fucked up and named Bruce. She continued wistfully. "Tony and I like not knowing though. It's like a Schrödinger's cat thing."

 

"Jesus Christ."

 

"Yeah, they have that effect on people."

 

"What are you to them then?"

 

Darcy leaned around his hip to give him her best "I'm so disappointed in you" eyebrow quirk.

 

"Who's Koslov?" She asked. He grimaced.

 

"Point taken. Now please untie me."

 

"Could be a while." She admitted, squinting at the job at hand. "I never got out of these knots in training."

 

Will hung his head in defeat.

 

Then her table buckled and crashed as it fell apart under the weight of what most of the Avengers would call a light snack.

 

Darcy picked up a cookie that rolled over to their feet and offered it to Will as Mr. Cardenas started yelling from across the hall.

 

That actually probably went about as well as an Avengers shovel talk could ever go.


	8. Chapter 8

_Four Months Later_

"So why aren't you working politics?" Will asked while he buttoned his shirt, motioning with his chin to her diploma on the wall. Darcy glanced at it as she fussed with her scarf. They were going to brave the brunch bustle that morning. Darcy hoped that going on Saturday would be less of a hassle than the Sunday madness. She wasn't above having Will use his badge to jump a line though.

 

"It's more of a not yet." She said as she started to hunt down her coat. "The library is the most popular venue to host civic forums and events in the neighborhood. I'm meeting the right people and making the right connections. But when-" she paused, bringing her hands up to form air quotes. "When I 'got out' I needed to be able to walk away from my new job at the end of the day and turn it off." Will nodded with a wry twist on his lips. He got it. "Campaign work doesn't leave any room in your brain for anything else. There's no turning your brain off at all. The shit even gets into your dreams if you're lucky enough to get any sleep."

 

Will shuddered dramatically. "Maybe the question is why _would_ you work politics." Darcy led him out to the hall and turned to lock the door.

 

"When it goes right it's the most satisfying thing in the world. You can point to a newly paved road that was falling apart and say you helped make the neighborhood safer to walk and bike and drive, you helped secure the job for the people who fixed it, on and on."

 

Will was smiling at her fondly as she gesticulated wildly once they reached the street.

 

"That's an optimistic view. I like that." He said. Then he added-

 

"And?"

 

Darcy grinned. Her boyfriend knew her so well. "And if you're not in the line of fire when it goes wrong, the shitshows are _great_. 

 

* * *

 

 

"When did you learn how to be with a cop?" Will asked once they'd been seated.

 

"Hmmmm?" Darcy didn't look up from the menu.

 

"You never try to grab my gun hand when we walk together. Always stay on my left so ya don't get in the way if I need to draw it. Just now you didn't give me any shit about taking the booth along the wall so that I have a clear line of sight on all the doors even though you always want the booth."

 

Darcy finally looked up from the menu, face twisted in consternation. "Thought we had an unspoken 'don't ask don't tell' thing going on."

 

"Oh, we do." Will's voice was firm. She understood that. She'd never endanger her own crew like that. She trusted Will implicitly at this point but they never knew what could be overheard.

 

"I guess that answers my question then." He elaborated. "I was just wondering if it was from when you were growing up."

 

"Nope. None of my foster parents were cops."

 

"Just curious." Will shrugged at her before changing the topic. "So, what are you gonna have?"


	9. Chapter 9

_Two Months Later_

Sunday's were Darcy's favorite day now. Will usually managed to finagle his schedule to get at least part of the day with her, going out, staying in, reading, dozing, Netflix and chillin'. This Sunday he'd come over at noon and immediately tumbled her back into bed. She fell into a doze after they finished, only to be roused a half hour later by the scent of warm cheese and tomato sauce.

 

She padded out of her room, smiling at the sight that greeted her. Will, shirtless and in his pajama pants, was sitting at the replacement table Tony had bought her eating pizza while using his laptop. Two slices were across the table from him, set out for her.

 

"Whatcha doing?" Darcy leaned against his bare back, wrapping her arms around his chest. He brought his hand up to cover the place where her arms crossed over his chest as he pressed the side of his head to the side of hers.

 

"Apartment hunting. Landlord's saying that the building got damaged so bad in The Incident they're red tagging it."

 

Darcy frowned. "The Incident was four years ago. They sure they wanna go with that excuse? Either they let you live in a death trap for four years or they're violating tenant rights so that they can clear the building and raise rent."

 

Will huffed a laugh.

 

"Are you sure you're not ready to jump back into politics?"

 

"You could move in here with me." Darcy offered.

 

"Oh, wow, you just blew past that question!" Will pulled back to look Darcy in the eye.

 

"I could say the same for you." She pointed out defensively.

 

"I'll move in tomorrow, sounds great. But back to the question. You ready to make the job switch? That's big Darce." She buried her face into his shoulder and groaned.

 

"I don't know. Maybe. One of the groups that uses the meeting rooms asked if I wanted a part time job organizing tenants living in slums. It sounded fun. I might get to meet Jimmy McMillan."

 

"Working in slums sounded fun?" Will sounded confused.

 

Darcy moved off his back and around the table. "Maybe I meant something closer to fulfilling."

 

Will nodded in understanding and Darcy stuffed a slice into her mouth, ending the conversation for now.

 

* * *

 

 

"Well, that's the last of it." Will declared a week later, straightening up from the box he'd just emptied. It was 10:00 pm and Darcy was ready to just crawl into bed already.

 

Will ran down to the nearest bodega to restock on pop tarts while Darcy showered and climbed into bed. She set up her laptop on the nightstand and cued up Parks and Rec. Will got back and snuggled in behind her, reaching over her to start the show.

 

Just before he hit the keyboard, an iCal appointment alert popped up and he went rigid behind her.

 

"'MRI at 9:00'? An MRI like, MRI?" He demanded, coming up on his left arm to see her face, concern writ large on his own.

 

"No big deal, no big deal." Darcy rushed to assure him. "It's a yearly thing. Since I was a kid. I'm fine."

 

"People who are fine don't _get_ MRIs Darcy." He clicked on the appointment to bring it up on the screen. In the screen's white light, it looked like all the blood had drained from his face while he looked at the details.

 

"I used to have multiple sclerosis." Darcy explained.

 

" _Used to_ \- Darcy, MS isn't something people _used to_ have. You don't get _over_ MS, it isn't a cold-"

 

Darcy covered his mouth with her hand.

 

"I'm aware." She said dryly. "You're looking at possibly the only person who has managed to make a full recovery. After my Mom died her employers stepped in and got me to a research clinic in England. I was a toddler, which they tell me helped, and I was in the early stages. IGH kept my name out of the results but they're out there in medical journals and stuff. They asked me when I was a teenager if I wanted to be named, but I really don't so they keep my check ups in house."

 

Will was actually shaking. "IGH?"

 

"Yeah, it's a biomedical research outfit. My Mom was a scientist there. She died not long after I got diagnosed. They've been really good to me."

 

Will sort of dropped down on top of her as she wrapped her arms around him.

 

"It's fine, I'm fine." She repeated as he hid his face against her neck.

 

"Christ, you scared me." He whispered.

 

"I'm sorry. I should have said something."

 

"Shit." He cursed quietly against her skin. " _Shit_."


	10. Chapter 10

_The Next Afternoon_

Darcy blinked her eyes open, feeling a little groggy.

 

"Did I fall asleep?" She asked the tech.

 

"For a little while." He didn't look up from his tablet. "It gave us some good readings though so we didn't want to wake you."

 

Will had texted Darcy while she was on the subway that morning to tell her to call him the minute her procedures were finished. As she changed and gathered her things, she dialed his number.

 

"Hey hon. Just like always, totally fine." She chirped when he answered.

 

"That's great babe. Listen, take the rest of the day off. Let's hang out."

 

Darcy chewed her lip. "Let me call in and-" her phone beeped, and when she pulled back to look, it was the library. "That's them, Will. Hold on?"

 

She switched to the new call. "We need you to stay home today so that the temp can do your whole shift." Her boss announced with no preamble. "It's labor law."

 

A click in her ear told Darcy she'd been hung up on. Weird, but the timing worked out so she wouldn’t argue. Will came back on the line.

 

"Well, they said I have to take the day. Where do you wanna go? I'll meet you."

 

"I was thinking home." Will said. "I just want to hold you for a while."

 

Darcy felt her heart melt a little. "That sounds good." She managed to say, even though all she wanted to do was coo and say 'aaaawwwww' at him.

 

"I'll be here when you get here." He paused a moment. "I love you."

 

He hung up before she could say it back. Probably embarrassed.

 

Darcy almost floated back to her apartment on cloud nine. Her life was falling into place. It was exactly what she'd wanted.

 

She didn't even whine to herself about the million stairs she had to climb to get to her apartment.

 

Mr. Cardenas' door was open when she reached her floor. A jolt of fear broke through her bliss. She'd seen all those posters on the subway about keeping tabs on your elderly neighbors. She pulled out her phone and went to investigate.

 

"Mr. Cardenas?" She called out, knocking at the door just in case.

 

"In here!" He yelled back, voice trembling. He sounded scared.

 

"I'm coming in!" She pushed the door open, made it through his entry hall and-

 

Stumbled to a halt with a gasp. Mr. Cardenas' armchair was in the center of his living room. He was seated in it, looking gaunt. The room smelled acridly of piss, with other filth just beneath it.

 

The ceiling light was flickering and dim. There was no other furniture in the room, just pictures, pictures of her, plastered on every surface and more were being spit out of a printer that was on the floor -

 

Darcy started moving backwards. "What the _fuck_." She demanded. Mr. Cardenas didn't say anything, just stared at her in desperation. He was trying to say something with his eyes.

 

Darcy needed to get the hell out of there. Her hands were shaking as she tried to call Will.

 

She screamed and jumped away when she backed into another body. When she turned, it was Will. He must have heard her, come out to investigate.

 

If Will was there, Darcy knew she was safe. She stood between Mr. Cardenas and Will, angled to see the both of them while she tried to catch her breath. Will held out his hand, and she passed him her phone so that he could call this in.

 

Instead, he pocketed her phone.

 

"Will?" She asked. His face was impassive. Stony. Darcy's heart dropped.

 

"Will." She tried again. She heard the fear in her own voice. Mr. Cardenas moaned pitifully behind her. "Call someone, Will, Jesus-"

 

The front door closed and Darcy heard someone walking down the hall.

 

" _Will_!!" She shrieked, backing away towards the kitchen.

 

"Well hello!" A man of medium height appeared at the mouth of the short hallway waving cheerily at her. He had black hair, half slicked back, a purple tie and a fancy suit. Darcy didn't say anything, staring at him as she tried to control her breathing.

 

"You remember _me_!" He exclaimed, with a huge grin. Darcy didn't react.

 

"You must!" He insisted. Darcy shook her head slowly. "Really? Well. I'll have to refresh your memory- but, later. We're on a schedule. Sargent."

 

Will started moving towards Darcy. She kept moving back.

 

"Will. No. Will."

 

His face didn't show any damned emotion as her back hit the kitchen counter.

 

"Will."

 

"Will."

 

" _Will_." She was begging now, and pushing at his chest. It did no good. He produced a needle and jammed it into her neck. In seconds her muscles went lax, and Will's weight against her was the only thing keeping her upright.

 

"Bring her here, Sargent."

 

Will wrapped an arm around her and dragged her to the hallway. She was transferred between the two men. Will released her and stepped back as quickly as he could.

 

"Take care of the old man." Will was instructed. The stranger took hold of Darcy's head, angling it so that she would watch Will. "Make it look natural. We don't want our friends the Avengers to come sniffing about."

 

Darcy's breath hitched when Will left the room and came back with a pillow.

 

"No." She breathed.

 

"Watch." The stranger ordered. Darcy closed her eyes instead, but not before she saw Will place the pillow over poor Mr. Cardenas' face and lean in.

 

Then everything went black as the drugs took over and dragged her under.


	11. Chapter 11

Darcy was on a scratchy, narrow surface when she clawed her way back up to consciousness. The drugs still had her when she pried her eyes open - her head felt too heavy to lift and her thoughts were moving slower than molasses.

 

She saw that Will was standing over her. She couldn't imagine why he wasn't laying down with her. Her mouth was too dry to form her questions.

 

She was so tired.

 

"Aaahhh, finally!" A new voice chirped. A new figure, man in a purple button up and grey slacks moved into her field of vision. Darcy could process that he looked familiar, but that was it. She let her eyes close again.

 

"Nawww, naww, no more of that." He chided. Darcy's world tilted and whorled as she was forced to sit up. When she opened her eyes, she was being pinned to the back of her seat with the guy's hands on her shoulders. Will had stepped back to give him room to kneel in front of her.

 

"Do you recognize me now?" He asked. Darcy only scowled at him.

 

"Tomo sushi? Eight months ago? I tried to cheer you up, you nearly bit my head off?"

 

"Not ringing any bells." Darcy rasped.

 

"You- really?" He looked flabbergasted. "How often do you screech at men about your face?"

 

"What?" Darcy looked up at Will. Will refused to meet her eyes.

 

"I suggested that you smile, and you started screaming about how your face is 'arranged'. I understand now, though, you'd had a rough day." He was smiling indulgently at her. "By my math, it was _that time_ of the month."

 

The corners of Darcy's mouth dragged down in a grimace. What an asshole.

 

God, she was so tired.

 

"I give that speech just about every other day." She said bluntly. His smile fell away. Darcy felt the need to twist the knife "You're nothing special. Why would I remember you?"

 

Incongruously, he beamed again. "Ah, Darcy darling, that is most definitely not the case." He pulled his hands back and whipped up to sit next to her.

 

Darcy only then noticed that they were on an antique Victorian couch - fancy wood-carved frame, uncomfortable springs. The stranger wrapped his left arm around her shoulders, tugging her against his side and bringing her attention to Will.

 

"Sargent, Darcy dear doesn't think I'm special. Tell Darcy that I'm special."

 

"He's special." Will repeated robotically.

 

"Darcy, tell me I'm special." Darcy struggled weakly against his hold.

 

"Or what?" She demanded. "What hell is even-"

 

"Sargent, take your right pinky finger in your left hand."

 

Will grabbed his right pinky finger.

 

"Now break it."

 

Will broke his finger with no hesitation, screaming through his teeth as he did it.

 

Darcy stopped struggling immediately, a jolt of fear and horror piercing through the grogginess.

 

"Do you understand now?" He asked, looking searchingly at Darcy's face. "Naaaawww, I don't think you do."

 

"Next finger, Sargent."

 

" _No_!" Darcy yelled.

 

Will broke his ring finger.

 

"Stop." Darcy choked. "What the hell are you-"

 

"You may call me Killgrave." He interrupted. "And what I am… Is what I was made."

 

"That makes no sense." Darcy snarled.

 

"The people around me do whatever I say. Except for you, it seems." Killgrave explained. "Do you know that you're the first person to ever say the word 'no' to me since I was ten years old?"

 

"So what?"

 

"So that means that you are fascinating. I've been truly enthralled by everything I've dug up on you." He glanced over at Will. "Even the bits I got through this dull lughead here."

 

Darcy's stomach nearly emptied itself at the thought of Will sharing their life together with Killgrave. Her struggles began anew, more violent than before.

 

"… No." She bit back a sob.

 

"Oh, yes." Killgrave continued. "You'll need to understand this, Darcy dear - Will has been lying to you since the moment you met. I sent him to you."

 

"No." She groaned.

 

"Oh, yes. And he returned to me every day, with reports of what you'd done and what he'd learned. You never knew? I was across the hall from you, not ten feet from you."

 

Darcy shook her head in denial.

 

"Sargent. Tell Darcy all the things you've told me you hate about her."

 

"You're fat." Will started immediately. "You're lazy. Self-centered." His voice cracked as he went on. "You can't do anything for yourself. So needy, _so goddamn needy_ always hanging on me or sitting on me, _why can't you ever keep your goddamned hands off of me_ -"

 

At Darcy's first sob, Killgrave held up his hand to quiet Will.

 

"I believe the point has been made. Sargent, get out your gun."

 

Darcy snapped her head back, straight into Killgrave's mouth, so hard she saw stars.

 

" _RUN_!" She yelled at Will, turning before knowing if he would run. A new man in a suit with an earpiece appeared in the door. Will shot him, left handed. Darcy stuffed her hands into Killgrave's mouth to muffle him as heavy footsteps told her that Will was on the move.

 

"I LOVE YOU WILL!" Darcy screamed as she hung on to Killgrave's face for dear life.

 

God, she did love Will, what if this was the last time she ever saw him? He had to know. She loved him with everything she had, she loved him with every bit of what she'd retained by turning her back on her friends, the idea of that love and the life they shared was why she'd left her friends- her family-

 

Glass shattered from another room. Will was out. Killgrave finally shoved her to the ground, where she lay while he investigated.

 

At least Will would be safe. That's all that mattered to Darcy just then.


	12. Chapter 12

"That was _thrilling_!" Killgrave announced as he came back into the room. Darcy didn't move. He spit out a tooth before continuing.

 

"I didn't see that coming _at all_. Do you know how rare that is? You there, give me your handkerchief."

 

Killgrave dabbed at the blood on his mouth delicately while he smiled down at her.

 

"Really, this is only a minor setback." He assured her. "Sargent Will Simpson was a rather broken man before I even met him. My security will deal with him."

 

"Maybe." Darcy stared him down. "Maybe not." Whatever else she'd thought she knew about Will, she knew that at his core he was a survivor.

 

"Aaahhh, there's that sassy mouth on you." He looked up at the guard who'd given him the handkerchief. "You, get her moving."

 

Darcy was grabbed under her armpits and set on her feet. White spots danced in front of her eyes, and her knees promptly buckled. Killgrave caught her, holding her awkwardly to his chest.

 

"Let's get you some food, then, hmmm? Laurent! Our guest is absolutely starving! Let's get her something warm!"

 

With some help, Darcy managed to put one foot in front of the other and found herself seated at a small table just off of the kitchen. She gathered herself for moment after she sat.

 

"What can I do to get you to leave Will alone?" She asked. Killgrave quirked his eyebrows at her.

 

"You _do_ understand that he feels nothing but hatred for you, yes?"

 

"What. Can I. Do." She repeated.

 

"What are you offering?"

 

"You want to know how it is I don't do what you want, right?" Darcy looked away from him. "What do you need? Blood, MRI, what? I'll do any of it. Please. Please, leave him alone."

 

Killgrave leaned closer to her. "The cerebral-spinal fluid draws were the worst, right?"

 

Darcy shook her head. She didn't know what he meant.

 

"At the clinic. When they would pin you down and jam that giant needle into your spine. You had to hold veeeery still, or they might accidentally paralyze you."

 

"I don't remember." Darcy told him. "I was a little kid."

 

Killgrave leaned back, and started tapping the table. "I was ten before I could make them stop." He said shortly. "I don't want that for you."

 

"What do you want?"

 

"An end to the boredom!" He spread his arms wide. "Learning about you has occupied me for months now! Do you recognize this house?"

 

Darcy shook her head.

 

"The holes in your memory worry me." He observed. "Your freshman year of college? You wrote an essay for the contest to own this home. You had such domestic dreams for a coastal Maine B&B, for such a young girl. A flock of sheep? Hand knit socks for every guest? Your roommate says you talked her into running the kitchen by playing Gilmore Girls on repeat, and you two split the entry fee."

 

Darcy felt her jaw drop.

 

"That was like ten years ago!"

 

"Eight, actually. Not your best effort, that essay. I much preferred your work studying the effects of patriotic symbology upon different socio-economic classes your senior year of uni."

 

Darcy's stomach churned.

 

"Your advisor had to explain some of the more technical ideas to me, but overall, quite impressive. Was that when you developed your crush on Captain America?"

 

"Jesus Christ." Darcy breathed. She pushed back from the table, rose shakily to her feet because she had to move-

 

"Laurent! Alva!"

 

A gaunt older man in a chef's coat and a middle-aged Hispanic woman in jeans appeared.

 

"Darcy, meet your chef and your maid. Laurent, Alva, show Darcy here what happens if she tries to run away."

 

Both of them drew knives from their belts and laid the blades along their throats. Killgrave made a show of clasping his hands behind his head as he slouched in his seat.

 

"I couldn't access your files at Stark, but there was an adorable description in your SHIELD files of your heroic puppy rescue at a pet shop in the middle of a minor alien invasion of New Mexico. You do love an innocent bystander, don't you?"

 

Darcy took her seat again, and the knives were lowered.

 

"Dinner, _now_ , Laurent."


	13. Chapter 13

Darcy was served a bowl of beef and barley soup. Laurent couldn't leave the room fast enough after dropping it on the table. Darcy actually was starving, so she quietly tucked into it. When she'd made it halfway through Killgrave reached out and stopped her.

 

"I've engaged a consultant." He said. She raised an eyebrow. "A… sort of a psychologist."

 

"You should definitely be getting help." Darcy told him.

 

"Hilarious, darling. He's more for the both of us." Darcy grimaced.

 

"There is no 'us', asshole."

 

"Not yet." Killgrave acknowledged. He pulled something out of his pocket and handed it to her. Two pills landed in her hand. "He tells me that these could help pave the way to a harmonious time together."

 

Darcy wanted to throw them back in his face, but the memory of two strangers with knives at their throats stilled her hand.

 

"And if I don't?" It was galling to ask.

 

"Well, in this case you already have." He gestured to her bowl. "Because it's your first night here, I was told you'd need the help to settle in. In the future though, always say no when you want to." Killgrave told her earnestly. "You're here because you can do that. Those safeguards are only place to keep you here, not to take away your free will."

 

Darcy narrowed her eyes at him, waiting for the punchline. She spoke when none was forthcoming. "What… What exactly is it that you think free will is?"

 

When he only laughed at her, Darcy put the pills on the table and stood.

 

"What's the bedroom situation?" She demanded. What she'd thought was exhaustion had been dragging at her mind, but if it was a sedative… "Let me make this clear now, while I can - I don’t want to touch you." Killgrave held up his hands in mocking surrender, still smirking.

 

"If you touch me while I'm sleeping, you will be raping me." She said firmly. All the mirth cleared from his face, replaced by outrage.

 

"I would never - that's such an ugly word. I hate that word." He spat back. Darcy held firm.

 

"There's no other word for it. I don't want you to touch me."

 

Killgrave kicked back from the table and stood too. "Perhaps it is time to turn in. Let's speak again in the morning. Perhaps you'll be less hysterical."

 

Darcy wanted to scream, to hit him, something, but Alva appeared behind him looking terrified, silently shaking her head. Against all her instincts, Darcy managed to bite back her response.

 

"Alva, take her to her room." He ordered, glaring at Darcy. "You'll find that it locks from the inside."

 

"If you do forget what will happen if you try to leave," he called out when she reached the door, "my security team will be sure to show you what you caused when they drag you back here."

 

Alva showed Darcy up a flight of stairs to a second floor room that held only a bed and a recessed ceiling light. The bedclothes were made with military precision, the headboard and footboard carved from a heavy dark wood. Darcy wouldn't be able to make it budge if she had to. Alva melted away without another word.

 

Darcy locked the door and left the light blazing as she crumpled to the floor in the center of the room, finally alone. She landed in the fetal position, her mouth gaping wide as she fought down the sobs locked in her chest. She couldn't shut off her brain, it was stuck in a loop.

 

 _Will_.

 

 _Will_.

 

He'd twisted himself into every inch of her life. Her kitchen, her job, _her bed_. Every part of her loved him.

 

 _Will_.

 

 _Will_.

 

Everything she'd built was a lie spun by an entitled little man-boy who's eye she'd caught like a shiny fucking _object_. Everything she'd gained slipped from her hands like sand. Will - love, a life, a future - had never been further from her grasp than this moment, huddled on a cold wood floor, sucking in deep gulps of breath, trying not to hyperventilate.

 

 _Will_.

 

_Will._

 

She couldn't stop looking at her open hands. They looked empty and pristine, but they felt like she'd dipped them in filth.

 

 _Will_.

 

 _Will_.

 

He'd been there when she woke. He'd stroked her arm while she fell asleep. He'd smiled at her every Sunday morning. He'd made her more waffles in eight months than she could possibly have eaten in a lifetime. He'd taken her hand in his every time they walked the streets. He didn't want to do any of it. He'd been the love of her life. 

 

 _Will_.

 

 _Will_.

 

Her stomach revolted when she replayed what he'd said earlier. He didn't want her. He'd never wanted her.

 

For Darcy - Will was the love of her life.

 

To Will, Darcy was nothing but the instrument of his months-long rape.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick reminder of where we last saw Brock in CA:TWS
> 
> http://vignette2.wikia.nocookie.net/marvelcinematicuniverse/images/d/db/Romlow_Burned2.png/revision/latest?cb=20141126072904

A tapping at the door roused her… later. She had no idea what time it was. After a moment of disorientation, she remembered where she was. A voice that must have been Alva's was calling to her through the crack in the door.

 

"Breakfast, Miss Lewis." There was a pause before Alva lowered her voice. " _Please_."

 

Darcy stumbled up off the floor, and unlocked the door. Alva passed her some new clothes. "Please hurry." Alva whispered. Darcy nodded dumbly before closing the door again.

 

Natasha had tried to teach Darcy some things about being a liability to the Avengers. Darcy had tried to be a good student. She'd been aware of what a target she might be. Only one of Natasha's lessons would be of use to Darcy now though.

 

Survival is as simple as putting one foot in front of the other.

 

All Darcy had to do, Natasha said, was put one foot in front of the other, and then do it again, and never give up. The Avengers would always come for her.

 

She could do that. She could hold on. She could play Killgrave's sick games, because she knew, in the end, the Avengers would come, and Darcy would win.

 

She stuffed herself into a pair of vintage looking high waisted capri jeans and buttoned up a white blouse with puffy sleeves and a sash to tie into a bow at the neckline. She left the sash undone.

 

There were no shoes with the outfit.

 

Killgrave was waiting at the bottom of stairs when Darcy began her descent.

 

" _Darling_ , I just knew you'd look marvelous in vintage fashion." He made a show of looking up and down her body. "Perhaps not the pedal pushers again, you're too short to really pull that off. But look at you, you look like you just walked out of a sixties sock hop!"

 

"Whatever." Darcy's skin was crawling. When she reached the end of the stairs, Killgrave reached out for her face.

 

" _Don't fucking touch me_." Darcy spat as she twisted away, stumbling blindly back. She only just managed not to scream when she bumped into a new person.

 

She did scream once she got a look at his face, lunging away from both Killgrave and the newcomer. She was grabbed before she could get far. He was fucking strong enough to hold her up off the floor by the back of her shirt.

 

"Darling, this is Brock Rumlow." Kilgrave announced while the man in question met her eyes with what Darcy thought might be a leer. His face was a mess of scars though, so she couldn't be sure.

 

"I'm aware." She snapped back. When she pulled her foot back to kick him, she was dropped into a heap on the floor.

 

"So, that sneaky bitch did manage to get a picture last time I saw her." Natasha, her mind supplied. Rumlow meant Natasha. Well, if he already knew…

 

"She sure did." Darcy smirked as she picked herself up off the floor. "You should have seen the email chain she sent around about your new face. _I_ said you looked like an avocado had some rough sex with an older, rotting avocado." Rumlow rocked back back on his heels with a tight smile.

 

"Stark said you looked like a testicle with teeth, but, that seemed mean to testicles." His smirk was lessening. "Oh, my favorite though!" Darcy continued, "Yoooouuuuuu look like Freddie Krueger face-fucked a topographical map of Utah." Killgrave giggled, looking entertained.

 

" _You_ know who wrote that one." Darcy taunted. Rumlow completely lost his smile. "Falcon's one funny-" Rumlow swiped out at her, forcing Darcy to jump back.

 

"Ah ah ah!" Killgrave cried, stepping between them. "Don't make me break the contract already."

 

"Don't you dare try that mind control shit on me." Rumlow snarled back.

 

"I'm sorry, contract?" Darcy broke in. "Why the fuck would you-"

 

"Hush, darling, I told you last night."

 

"You said psychologist-"

 

"I said consultant. Mr. Rumlow here will be helping guide us to our happy ending. He's helped many people in your situation… settle, come around to reason."

 

"Ok first off, _Nazis aren't fucking reasonable_." Darcy started. Rumlow did a thing with the place where his eyebrow should have been that made Killgrave sigh. Darcy couldn't believe that this had to be fucking pointed out, but- " _Nazis are never fucking reasonable!_ "

 

"Do shut up, darling." Killgrave tried.

 

"Secondly this dude is nuttier than a squirrel turd. Seriously. Falcon must have dealt him some heavy duty brain damage-"

 

Rumlow went through Killgrave this time, managing to get his hands around Darcy's throat. Darcy wasn't afraid though. It was exhilarating to finally have a flesh and blood body that she could unleash on.

 

She bit and clawed and kicked, managed to break his hold and roll out just far enough away to throw her elbow back with enough momentum to make something in his face crack and give way.

 

She would have pressed that advantage, but what must have been several gallons of icy cold water were dumped on them. They rolled apart, gasping. Darcy looked up to see a terrified Laurent clutching a giant pot, already backing away.

 

"Darcy, go with Laurent and eat something. Mr. Rumlow and I need to discuss how far I'm willing to go to protect you, contract be damned." Killgrave said softly as he crouched down to Rumlow's level.

 

Darcy acquiesced enough to get herself to the kitchen table, but she couldn't bring herself to eat.

 

Killgrave's powers were nothing but evil.

 

So the idea of anyone, even Rumlow, being forced to obey shouldn't have made Darcy happy for even a moment. Her flash of satisfaction when she saw Rumlow's impotent rage gave way to a longer wallow in shame that she was unwilling to shake off.

 

She needed to be careful to tamp down her vindictive streak, lest she start down the same path Killgrave was on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trying to weave in a little of Hogarth, if Hogarth had more than an academic understanding of what a conscience is. 
> 
> Also, have some some Deadpool quotes because I'M SO FUCKING PUMPED THAT WE GET TO SEE DEADPOOL THIS MONTH!!!


	15. Chapter 15

Darcy was leaning her forehead against the kitchen window when Killgrave strolled in, staring out at the grassy meadow and stand of trees that surrounded the house. She remembered the property now, had taken a virtual tour of it before sending off her essay bid for it. It was fucking beautiful.

 

"Have you eaten?" Killgrave asked. Darcy didn't respond.

 

"It's so novel!" He burbled. "Even my most sensible suggestions, you can just brush them off."

 

Darcy hunched herself away from him, bringing her arms up to cross over her chest.

 

"Awwwww, don't be like that darling. Sulking is _boring_. Don't be _boring_." Footsteps fell heavy behind her before Killgrave spun her around with rough hands on her shoulders.

 

"You're fun, Darcy, but you're no mystery." He continued, leaning down too close to her face. "You think _the Avengers_ are coming for you. You think the Avengers will _save_ you." Darcy tried to pull away from him, but she was trapped between him and the door.

 

"What do you think happens if they show up here, though?" Killgrave sneered. "I don't believe you've thought it through. Laurent, let's show her what happens if her heroes come to save the day."

 

"STOP!" Darcy yelled, trying to wrench out of his grasp. Killgrave released her shoulder just long enough to grab a kitchen rag off the counter and stuff it into her mouth, pinning her against the window with his greater bulk.

 

"Laurent, make a fist." Darcy couldn't see Laurent. "Now punch yourself in the face as hard as you can."

 

She could hear the solid thwack of flesh meeting flesh over her muffled screams of denial.

 

"Good shot, Laurent!" Killgrave crowed. He turned back to Darcy, giggling madly. "As good as that was, just imagine how hard Captain America can hit himself." Darcy stilled as dread swept through her gut.

 

"For that matter, just imagine how hard he could hit the Black Widow. Or Tony Stark." Darcy told herself that the dampness around her eyes came from the rag, because she wasn't crying.

 

She wasn't crying.

 

"Did you know, that a human finger is as easy to bite through as a carrot? There's an instinct that we all have which prevents us from doing so normally. I've been thinking about how much fun it would be to override that instinct. Watching Will Simpson break his own fingers was a treat, to be sure."

 

She was absolutely not crying, goddammit.

 

"But how will Hawkeye react when he bites off all of his own fingers? He'd never shoot an arrow again. I'll be doing the world a service, of course. One less vigilante leveling cities left and right. It's such a burden on the taxpayers."

 

 _Goddammit fucking shit_ she would not, could not. Fucking. Cry.

 

Sensing his victory, Killgrave stepped back, sweeping his arm in an overly grandiose gesture towards the table.

 

Darcy swallowed bile and sat down.

 

…

 

After breakfast Darcy was ushered out onto the lush grass surrounding the house. Killgrave burbled about the beautiful views and the fresh air and what good taste Darcy had in real estate. Darcy tried her best to tune him out while she scanned the property line. She was carried on by the hope that Will was perched in one of the trees, armed, ready to save her.

 

The image of Killgrave's head exploding, like a watermelon that Clint had set up as a target for Darcy was superimposed over the reality she was being dragged through. Every rustling of leaves made her tense with anticipation.

 

Her vivid fantasies of mayhem and rescue were only broken when a thug in camo led a German Shepherd around the house, disappearing into the trees without a sound. Killgrave's triumphant giggles were too much for Darcy, and she left him to trek back into the house.

 

Rumlow was waiting for her at the top of the stairs. Before Darcy could make a sound, he snatched her deeper into the hallway and slammed her against the wall. His forearm pressed high on her neck, right under her jaw, steady as Darcy struggled to draw in air.

 

"So you think you're the new junior sneaky bitch, huh?" He whispered into her ear. "You aren't shit. Your Mama bitch ain't shit. I got a piece of the Widow, and it was no thing. You? You're weak."

 

His choking arm relaxed for a microsecond and Darcy sucked in air. When he leaned back in, Darcy couldn't exhale and her vision started to go fuzzy.

 

"You ever heard of Stockholm Syndrome?" He leered at her. "It's my specialty. I learned from the best. Your bitch Bucky Barnes would hump a leg till his dick fell off if we told him to. Now I get to do you, all from scratch."

 

Darcy had been clawing at his arm. When she reached for Rumlow's face, he lifted her off the ground with his hold on her neck.

 

"That's right, you fight it. The longer you fight the more fun for me you little cunt. That's the fucking beauty of Stockholm Syndrome. It doesn't matter what you know. It doesn't matter that you can ID every part of the process. _You'll still fall for it_."

 

Darcy's eyes rolled back into her head. Rumlow's sniggers followed her into the dark.


	16. Chapter 16

Darcy came to in the room she'd spent the night in. Her pulse throbbed so loud under the battered skin on her throat that it was all she could hear or think about as she woke.

 

The moment she realized what a reprieve that was, her situation cut right through her, severing her from the moment of a warped kind of peace. Bringing her fingers to press painfully over her carotid artery made it easier to separate herself from her circumstances, made her feel less overwhelmed.

 

_One-two_

_One-two_

_One-two_

 

Counting her pulse was a comforting mantra, that sounded like Bruce's voice at the front of her mind. She grasped that, visualizing Bruce standing beside her, guiding her breathing and her movements like a lesson in meditation. The memory of their time in his lab and the Avenger's quiet dojo centered her, quieted her racing mind for the first time since Mr. Cardenas' apartment.

 

It was time to decide how to get through this. No more wild fantasies about Will saving her. For all Darcy knew he was sitting in a road drooling, brain damaged by Killgrave's powers, or-

 

No.

 

 _One-two_ , Bruce's voice whispered to her.

 

_One-two_

 

She couldn't count on Will. That was all.

 

The Avengers would come for her, that much might as well have been carved in stone, but they could only do that once they realized that she and the other people in the house needed rescuing in the first place. How could she alert them?

 

Clint popped into her mind unbidden. "He'd never shoot an arrow again.", Killgrave had said.

 

Darcy sat up, crossing her legs. Cradling her throbbing head, she tried to think. Should she be trying to bring the Avengers here? Killgrave didn't look like much, but the things he could do… his power was insidious. He couldn't kill them all, of course not, but could Darcy bear to be the reason that even one of her team died?

 

Suddenly, Bruce's face seemed to be tattooed onto the insides of Darcy's eyelids. She could see his face so clearly when she squeezed her eyes shut and focused on the memory of his voice. Whether that was a blessing or a curse, she didn't know.

 

"What do I do?" She whispered out loud. "Please. What do I do?"

 

Bruce didn't answer.

 

"I miss you so much. I miss all of you so, so much." She told him, in a reedy whine. "I was so stupid to leave. I'm sorry."

 

There was no way to know how long Darcy sat there, straining as though she could will Bruce into existence before her. A ghostly sensation seemed to rest on her shoulders as she imagined she could press her head into his chest and hide away from Rumlow and Killgrave and the damned house she was trapped in.

 

"Please." She whispered one last time before relaxing. Unable to make the Bruce in her mind give her new guidance, Darcy searched her memories for inspiration.

.~.~.

 

"… Perhaps this isn't really the best practice for you." Bruce had suggested once, years ago. Darcy was at her wit's end with Tony troubles and had decided to drop in on Bruce to give meditation a shot. A half hour later, Darcy was still in a pissy mood, and now her butt was cold and falling asleep. Her constant shifting must have been getting on Bruce's nerves.

 

"Yeah, probably. I'll just go strangle Tony then. That'd probably make me feel pretty zen."

 

Bruce snorted before standing and offering Darcy a hand. "I meant sitting still wasn't the best way for you to clear your mind. Try walking. Focus on your breathing, and everything that's in this moment."

 

He led her to the nearest wall and had her stand perpendicular to it. "Keep your back straight, and your head right over your heels. Good. Arms loose, by your side. Now…"

 

.~.~.

 

Back straight. Head centered. Arms loose. Breathe.

 

In, two, three, four.

 

Out, two, three, four.

 

Darcy stood at the side of the bed, facing away from it, just breathing steadily. Then she took a step, and another, and another, starting a methodical path around the room.

 

In, two, three, four.

 

Out, two, three, four.

 

By the time she'd come around to the other side of the bed she felt calmer.

 

She felt more control over herself than she'd felt in a very, very long time. So she turned around and continued, staying close to the wall, focusing on her breathing and motion.

 

In, two, three, four.

 

Out, two, three, four.

 

It was something to do, a choice she'd made herself.

 

In, two, three, four.

 

Out, two, three, four.

 

In, two-

 

"Dinner." Alva whispered from the door. "He wants you downstairs."

 

Well, so much for control. Darcy nodded at Alva before slipping past her and padding quietly down the stairs.

 

…

 

"You missed a lovely turn around the pond." Killgrave admonished after their plates were laid on the table. Darcy didn't say anything, staring absentmindedly at the wall.

 

Killgrave snapped his fingers, nodding in approval when Darcy jerked her head around to face him, snarl on her lips.

 

"Good, darling. Don't be boring. Lets be friendly, instead! We share so much in common."

 

"NO WE DON'T- Why would I- you-" Darcy spluttered. "You're a fucking murderer for one."

 

Killgrave sat up straight and pointed at her. "I've never killed anybody." He said forcefully.

 

"Are you- I saw it, I was there- I saw you kill my poor neighbor!"

 

"Yes, you were there darling. You saw Will kill him. I never laid a finger on the odious old man."

 

Darcy's jaw dropped.

 

"Besides, what do you care? He was always yelling over every little thing, and he was practically dead already." Killgrave smirked. "Nothing but a drain on the rest of us, really, Will did the world a favor."

 

"… Do you hear voices in your head by any chance?" She wondered.

 

Killgrave's smirk slipped. "Of course not Darcy. Why would you ask me such a thing?"

 

"If you really believe that you're not responsible for what you tell people to do then you're either crazy or a goddamn moron."

 

Killgrave scowled. "It's the truth though, innit?"

 

"Of course not. God, no. How many people have you killed?"

 

He stood and came around the table, looming over her. "If I'm the murderer you imagine me to be, perhaps you should avoid pissing me off."

 

"There's no 'if' you asshole. You've killed people. You're a murderer." Darcy blustered, frozen in her seat.

 

Out of the blue Killgrave leaned forward and kissed her. After a second of shock, Darcy started swatting at him before bracing her hands against his shoulders and managing to disengage. Killgrave's eyes were bright and excited when she met them.

 

"No, no, I've seen this on TV before!" He exclaimed. "It's hate sex!"

 

"NO." Darcy yelled. "So help me God, you put another hand on me and you will not get it back."

 

Killgrave just smirked again. "I think you'll find you might-"

 

"RAPE." Darcy snapped. Killgrave lost the sparkle in his eye.

 

"Fine. Go. Sulk in your room." He dismissed her, turning back to his plate.

 

Darcy was up and out like a shot before he'd even loaded up his fork.


End file.
